


W

by clumsyoctopus



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fake Episode, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsyoctopus/pseuds/clumsyoctopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Vale Community College student elections begin, and debate rages over a controversial candidate's right to run for office. Meanwhile, Pamela Winchell takes ill after an emergency conference goes awry, and more updates from a certain scientist trapped in the desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	W

**Author's Note:**

> Other than typical Night Vale weirdness, only potentially upsetting content is alcohol use. If I have missed anything that should be appropriately warned for, please let me know.

I am afraid not, said the frayed knot, before snapping and _completely_ ruining your family’s mountaineering vacation.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Politics is about people. It is about people screaming until their throats are bloody and raw. It is about people marching and protesting, even when they do not know what they are marching for, or where they are going. They protest through the dunes and the sandstorms of the vast and vastly indifferent desert, with no audience but the vultures and the lizards.

And all vultures are strictly Republican, of course, and lizards are naturally disinterested in politics, so it is not a very responsive audience.

Most of all, politics is about people throwing their broken, limp bodies, over and over, against the looming and unresponsive wall that is _Government_. It is not about the response, after all. It is about the volume of the sickening thumps you can make with your flesh.

As a real people person, I have always followed the local politics of our humble little desert town very closely, listeners. And as my dear friend, and our very own ex-intern, is now reigning Night Vale Mayor, it has become a more central issue in my life than ever. Even moreso than it was in high school, where I was known for my ruthless political journalism, the brutality of which sent more than one lesser student council candidate running from the podium crying. And my passion now even eclipses that during my time in Night Vale Community College, where I became the central figure around which many conflicts circulated.

Of course, many of these conflicts were often more about my romantic life than the iron grip with which I held the Night Vale Community College Student Radio, but such are the priorities of the young.

As I have now placed the thought of politics in your mind, it is time to announce that Night Vale Community College student elections are beginning. Those chosen to represent Night Vale’s lively student body will be expected to take on a range of duties. I am 90…well…maybe 60% sure that I acted as representative during my time at college, and it is not a job for the faint of heart, listeners. But it is very…rewarding.

The key responsibility of the representatives, however, is the organisation of Night Vale Community College club events, which are sprawled across a dynamic student calendar, that all enrolled students will find on their walls……nnnow.

No. Hahaha. Don’t try to remove it. Ha, Laura, are you lifting the calendar page up? Laura, don’t try to peek at what the semester has in store. I mean, how will you be able to enjoy the next few weeks of partying and socialising, when you know about the upcoming death in the family? Will you be able to enjoy your short-lived happiness, when you are haunted by the future-spectre of the grotesque exam failure that will jeopardise your future at college? Yes. It is much better _not_ to know any of that! I mean, after all Laura, enjoy what limited time you have at college without worrying! You worked _really_ hard to get there.

Anyway! Elections will take place after a riveting student debate to be broadcast from our sister station at Night Vale Community College. Please tune in and show support to the young people of Night Vale, who may well feature prominently in your future oppression and subjugation.

However, I am aware that all radios in Night Vale are inexorably fixed on this station. Many of you have been sending letters into the station to alert me to this issue. Most of them are along the lines of “Cecil, what have you done to my radio?” and “I can tell that the Washi Tape which is holding my radio controls in place belongs to you, Palmer”, but, oh well. If you stand in juuuust the right positions on campus at around the right undisclosed time, you may be able to catch _some_ of it.

In othernews, ex-mayor Pamela Winchell has recently taken ill after one of her emergency press conferences ended in a huge vat of live venomous snakes being poured all over the podium, the attending journalists, and the members of the public whose house she had commandeered for this morning’s press conference. Ah, yes, Intern Flora was also in attendance, and after a brief dialogue with the Snake King, has decided to join their fascinating culture and leave her position at our station. And the human world.

Apparently, living in the wilderness while crawling around on your belly as an honorary desert snake is a safer profession than working in community radio. Who knew!

To Intern Flora, we wish her the best of luck in her future career as the Snake King’s adoptive daughter.

I have pestered Pamela on Facebook to see how she is handling her latest setback to her unretirement, but I only got a very rude message from her wife in response. Like, wow, Mrs Winchell. Wow.

As I am a _very considerate_ journalist  with a _great deal of integrity_ who does _not_ use the excuse of reporting the news to simply be nosy and interfere in others personal lives, _thank you_ , I will not be repeating Mrs Winchell’s frankly hurtful comments on air. They are, however, available on my Facebook wall with a very polite rebuke of her slander…just for anybody interested.

Ex-Intern and Present-Mayor Dana Cardinal commented that she will simply suspend emergency press conferences for the moment. Instead, Dana will try a new political technique wherein emergency press conferences will only be called in the case of an actual emergency. I have to say, it is so good to have a political figure in our community willing to try radical new ideas and trim away at unnecessary old traditions.

Though I do think she was getting a little ahead of herself with trying to make the Dog Park some kind of place where people go to…walk their dogs, and have picnics, and play…frisbee? I think that’s what the idea was?

While far be it from me to step on our new mayor’s youthful innovativeness, I must repeat a piece of advice given to me by my mother. One step at a time, dear Dana, one step at a time.

Why, at this point, she was calling me Dana I am not sure. It is possible she was speaking over my shoulder to an incorporeal apparition of Dana, before the physical form of Dana was even a dream in her mother’s mind.

I’ll have to ask her! If Dana saw my mother, that would be simply fascinating. After all, I cannot remember what she looks like, or even if she ever actually exists. It is possible that I was raised by a constructed mother - a Harlowian mesh of wire and hair that a younger Cecil clung to, and imagined a voice for.

Well, alright, that might be a little melodramatic. I have been told I kind of do that. It is perfectly possible that I just earnestly do not remember. I do have a pretty bad memory, listeners. Carlos has told me about his…pretty extensive list of allergies several times, listeners. However, there aaaalways seems to be something that slips my mind when I prepare dinner.

Don’t worry, he was fine. A scientist is always fine. Additionally, Night Vale General Hospital is a very safe and sanitary place ran by people with full, real medical degrees that were not acquired from suspicious companies ran by suspicious people with equally suspicious websites. Their death rates are at an all time low – they have even invested in facilities that _aren’t_ morgues in recent years.

Also, Carlos started bringing an EpiPen to the dinner table. So there’s that.

 Oh! I have just received an update from the Night Vale Community College Student Radio station. Twelve nominees have emerged for the upcoming election, some dragged kicking and screaming into the student union, still in their pyjamas, other having just emerged from the soil, fists smashing through the topsoil as they rise, groaning and handing out campaign fliers.

College president Sarah Sultan, a smooth fist-sized river rock, presides over the ceremony on a luxurious velvet pillow. She organises the nominees onstage and announces them to the assembled students, all sleepy and disinterested and crying out things like “It’s ten in the morning! On a Saturday! Why!”.

 The twelve nominees are as follows:

Ashley Benson. Hitomi Aragawa. An English Angora rabbit. A pile of salt. Sher. Hitomi Aragawa’s double. Yusuf Ismat. A mossy, taciturn skeleton with an unmoving, mocking grin. Hannah Schmi – oh, no. Scrap that. Hannah is no longer eligible. She has just turned into a large and very angry wolverine and – ooooh. The rabbit won’t be running either. Ooh…errrr…oh dear.

Let’s. Come back to the student elections…later.

So! Anyway! I have received two voicemail messages since I began recording, one from Carlos, you know, my hero-scientist-boyfriend, and one from an unknown number.

I think it will be fun for us to listen to them together. It is fun go do things with other people. It is something that people with healthy social lives and well adjusted emotional responses do _often_. And I know you are all almost as anxious to know about Carlos’s well-being as I am. So let’s find out what the situation in the mysterious desert is like together, and hope that Carlos comes bearing the good news of his imminent return.

Beep!

_Hiii Sissel! Shezil! Cecil! Ceeeecil! Okay, okay. I don’t know what time it is there, but the masked warriors have been having some kind of…festival of…something. I dunno, the point is it is a very big and sacred festival that is, scientifically speaking, a big deal. If I had a scientific way to measure what a big deal something is, a project I was working on before I left town, it would read….it would read…a lot. A lotta Big Deal units._

_Ok, so, basically, it is a weeklong celebration of all it is to be a wandering masked warrior in an endless supernatural desert, and I have been honoured with an invitation to join in!_

_So,  well, I couldn’t refuse! That would be really rrude, rrright? Haha. Lot of R’s. And, well, not many outsiders are allowed to take part, it’s a really important thing to study, scientifically speaking. Sho. So. Point is. I have not been looking for the door much this week, because I have been taking par t in this feshtival. Festival._

_A big part of the festival is drinking. I’m not drunk though! I. Am not. Drunk. No. I am not. It seems very similar to celebrations I took part in when I was doing my undergrad in Germany._

_Undergrad! Wow! Ooooh boy. Oh boy. I am really gonna have to show you photos from that time, Cecil! I was so. Cute. And young. And thin. I had so many ideas! I thought by now all my ideas would take the shape of words on paper in books in libraries in colleges, and that big people would be talking about my ideas like…I dunno…_

_Nothing I’ve done in Night Vale is…publishable, to say the least. I could not present any of my real findings at any reputable scientific...institup…instatit…institube…place, not if I wanted to retain my funding. But they’re achievements, aren’t they? And I’ve learnt a lot, haven’t I? And that is what it is to be a scientist, it is to learn and explore and discover, and it doesn’t matter that you haven’t gotten published in journals lately…or that your parents keep asking where you are and what you’re doing and they don’t understand the answers you are giving them, because they really don’t appreciate bloodstone circles, or the fact you have literally killed a pteronomanonodon with your bare hands. Wait, urgh, nooo, a pterodactyl. I’ve already_ told _you Cecill, they were pterodactyls. Pteranodons aren’t even dinosaurs! Sheeeeeeeeeeesh!_

_You read my papers though. You think they’re really good! I mean, you also don’t know what the moon is and started howling when I tried to explain the Mars rover projects, but. The thought counts! Um._

_…Yeah. I miss you. I am only gonna be out here a l’iiil longer, okay? I would just like to finish taking a few readers… and possibly…sleep off a hangover. But I swear, as soon as I can I will find that door and I will come home. I swear it as a scientist, and you_ know _that is the most important thing I swear by._

_Okay, the warriors are demanding that I take part in a ritual that looks a tiiiny bit like a keg stand but is totally not. Sooo. Um. Yeah. Bye?_

_No wait, oh yeah! I love you lots and losh._

_Okay no, actually going now bye!_

Beep beep!

…Well. It sounds like he is doing juuust…great.

Isn’t that _neat._

You know what, I am sure other people would really _struggle_ to be apart from their boyfriend for this long. I am sure, to other people, that spending this long so separate would be a painful and agonising experience, characterised by loneliness and fear, but those would be very different and much more _insecure_ people than Carlos and myself.

And I know what you are saying. “Cecil, weren’t you caught crying under your desk at the station yesterday?” and “I saw Cecil by himself at the cinema last week, have you noticed he spends a lot of time alone lately?” and “I don’t think he’s doing well, Josie, I am afraid. No. Not afraid. Concerned ”.

And I assure you. I am doing _juuuuust_ fine. Dandy, even! Carlos is doing wonderfully, after all? Isn’t he? He’s doing just great! He sounds like he is really enjoying himself! He is, in fact, too busy to even search for a way home, and doesn’t seem to regret forgetting our Facetime schedule! He’s doing _so well isn’t he!?_

And so am I, of course.

Now. Onto the next message, from our mysterious caller, that my phone failed to recognise.

Beep!

_Cecil Gershwin Palmer!_

_You will_ cease _your ongoing harassment of my wife this_ instant _young man! Pamela is most unwell and you have not only been complicit in her slander and failed to support her continued mayoralship, probably utilising who knows what influence or some kind of…scientific interference to assure the position for your dear intern, but you have continued to send her very, very annoying messages on Facebook. Pamela is stressed and she is ill and I have been run ragged trying to stop her calling emergency press conferences over every little thing!_

 _Now, if you so much as send a single message to any member of the Winchell family in the next_ year _young man, I will –_

Ah, it seems this is a message for someone else. Left on my machine by mistake. Preceded by my name, also in error. I am sure that whoever this is feels very silly, having accidentally left such a rude and bad-tempered message on an innocent man’s voicemail for no real reason.

Another note from our friends at the Night Vale Community College has just arrived at my desk. Enough of that unpleasantness, let’s instead pay much-needed attention to the endeavours of Night Vale’s talented student population.

Ah. It seems that the Night Vale Community College is on fire.

Hannah, still in wolverine form, has been terrorising the other nominees howling “I volunteer for a wide range of local charities!” and “My understanding of the challenges facing a modern community college far exceeds that of my opposition!” and growling viciously about the very efficient and useful college app she plans to make, as she has confused creating software for being a strong political leader. Finally, standing in the blood and viscera of her former challengers, she has began to chant in her vicious wolverine tongue “Vote Hannah Shmidt! Vote Hannah Shmidt!”

Of course, students more diligently versed in the Night Vale Community College policy will, of course, know that wolverines, wolves, warlocks, wallabies, walruses, warthogs, white faced capuchins, and other w-based beings are not permitted to run for any representative position. All in all, Hannah must be feeling…pretty silly right now. However, her rampage of destruction continues.

Naturally the only way to kill a wolverine is through the use of a scorching inferno. As such, to contain the chaos, Night Vale Community College enforcers set the entire campus alight. No word yet on if Hannah has been vanquished.

However, these events do bring up an interesting point of political discussion. Are Night Vale’s policies against w-based beings, perhaps, archaic? After all, it is 2014, listeners. Perhaps it is high time for us to make room for our w-based friends in high ranking positions. Their experiences can inform our businesses, our institutions, our secret police torture methods…are we not holding ourselves back, by holding our less privileged citizens back? Please, text in with your opinions!

Not to me, of course. I don’t really have the time or the inclination to sort through a variety of opinions and find those suitable for a pre-watershed community radio programme. Text them to Intern Maureen, whose number I am putting in all of your phones as we speak. She will begin passing judgement on your opinions, presently. So, remember, if none make it to radio, it is because Maureen judges your personal thoughts as uneducated, inappropriate, or simply uninteresting.

Megan Wallaby, you know, the young girl that previously took the shape large hand that is now a young girl that presently takes the shape of large seemingly-male adult, has sent in her own thoughts and…oh jeez. It’s _adorable_.

Dear Cecil, she writes, despite the fact this is not the writing conventions of a simple text, I think it is very bad that W-people can’t run for big jobs in Night Vale. I am W-person and I would like to run for student president when I start second grade. I hope that Hannah gets voted in, and that I will be able to join politics as well.

She has then signed the text with an emoticon of a many-eyed cat waving. It is _precious_.

Of course, Megan does not seem to understand that W-names aren’t included under Night Vale’s W-discriminatory practices. It is relevant to species and blood-type, primarily. That said, best of luck with your future political career, Megan!

Ah, the waterbear that lives in my bathtub has given their input.

hello cecil. you didn’t refill the bathtub this morning. that is ok. we all forget! the faceless old woman that secretly lives in our home filled it, so it’s all ok! about the story you’re running. i would be really interested in doing more things! i face a lot of persecution both for being a w-based being, and for being a micro-animal, but i have a lot of ambition! i have a lot of ideas about how to make real progress with the still-pretty-big-but-not-as-big-as-you-guys civilisation living under the bowling alley! it is unfair and discriminatory. support hannah shmidt – for the betterment of all w-beings!

Another intriguing comment from a very under-represented voice in our community. Though I feel all of Night Vale needs to need what is an appropriately _short_ comment. You are a community of irrepressible chatterboxes, Night Vale. Do not be afraid of brevity. It is, after all, the soul of wit.

Hm. What else. Ah, of _course_. Steve Carlsberg just has to add his unnecessary and juvenile opinions to _every_ sophisticated and complex discussion. I will not even dignify this nonsense by reading it on air, _Steve_ , but if you are listening, and I know you are, I will caution you against trying to derail very important discussion on discriminatory policies with your conspiracy theories. The idea that this controversy is merely to distract from secret police operations is nothing short of absurd – the secret police operations are nothing to be distracted from. They are to be accepted and appreciate for the invaluable service to the community they are, _Steve_. When there is a discussion on a topic you can really contribute to, such as disgusting shoes or asinine and intensely heteronormative television sitcoms, I will let you know.

My, my, Night Vale! This discussion is drawing a lot of controversy. There is screaming in the street, there is fire on the trending Twitter tags, Hiram McDaniels seems unable to make his five heads reach an agreement, even the Faceless Old Woman is blogging ferociously, and Leann Hart, editor of the Night Vale Daily Journal, is viciously swatting at all these online bloggers with her latest publication, screaming “You are not real journalists! Your opinions are not real opinions! Who do you think you are! Leave opinion-having to the _experts!_ ”.

The debate froths and rages, forming screaming fits, and arguments over the dinner table tearing otherwise peaceful families asunder. As Night Vale tears each other apart…I take you, now…

 

 **[To the weather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEglJql9Odc).**  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Welcome back listeners! As usual, exciting progress has been made during the weather. Sarah Sultan has sent an update from her position among the burning wreckage of Night Vale Community College and Hannah…has won! It seems that the discussion on our humble station has pushed the great college policy wizards into action, and they have repealed the Community College’s policy against W-creatures. Well, there you go, listeners. Never doubt the real impact that we can make, together, as a community. Our voices united, Night Vale, we can overcome.

Hannah cannot be reached for comment, as her wolverine form has consumed her mind. She is now pure savagery, and wildness, and bloodlust. We at Night Vale Community Radio wish her the best of luck with her career as the…sole, it seems, representative of the Night Vale student body. As the majority of Night Vale’s student population lives in a constant state of bloodlust, her transformation puts her in an excellent position to represent our young people.

Ah, it seems Mrs Winchell has sent a firmly worded letter to the station regarding my Facebook messages to Pamela and…oh. Ah. Well. It seems that after the show I will be taken by the Secret Police, who will then perform a restraining order rite on me. I suppose I have always wanted to see one up-close, rather than up from the booth, chomping toffee popcorn and hooting in all the right places. Carlos didn’t enjoy it last time, but he is always excellent at humouring my more niche interests.

…Um.

If anybody would like to go, liiike, get a coffee ooor something, anything, after my appointment with the Secret Police, do stop by to watch the ritual. I’ll meet you after they’re done with…what they do in there, in the dark, with the steel instruments with the jagged edges and the rust across the blades, gnarled and red as scabs.

Maybe we could see a movie or something? I mean. I have seen them all at this point, but it is more fun to see movies with other people. Like. No big deal, though. Everyone is really busy, and I fully understand and appreciate that not everyone has the ability to take time out of their schedule for me. Just. Y’know. Drop a text! Or something! Whatever!

Oh, wow, the Secret Police are really antsy this time! Just a minute, guys.

So, with the Secret Police hitting my door with large, wet slabs of meat as usual, I must bid you adieu for now Night Vale. Stay tuned for a recording of gentle sobbing, accompanied by the sound of all the things you wished you said, while you could, but never found the courage to.

And as always, good night, Night Vale, good night.

 

 

_Today’s proverb: Keep your chin up! No, more up than that. More. More. More. No, push past the pain. There! Now, don’t you feel so much better?_


End file.
